8 - Carlos in the Bathroom

Carlos watched reverently as his best friend made her way across the quad. Her eyes were glued to the papers in her hands, but the energetic bounce of her curls, perfectly in time with her short skirt as it provided tantalising glimpses of her upper thighs and the pale pink of her panties, meant that every male eye in the space was glued to her.

He tried his best not to stare, waiting on the edge of his seat for the next flash of flesh, but he was only a man. If he was being honest with himself, he'd been attracted to Stephanie Plum since the moment she threw herself in front of him and took a punch that had his name written on it in bold. And if he went so far as to be brutally honest with himself, he would acknowledge that it hadn't taken long after that for an unsettling feeling known as love to seep into his gut and his chest. The last thing he wanted to do was open his mouth and ruin their friendship by confessing his feelings. So it was probably good that he'd decided to be dishonest with himself on that front.

It wasn't easy. Especially at times like this when he could sense the laser focus of every horny male in the quad trained on her ass, taking in the free show she was inadvertently giving them. All he wanted to do was drag her out of their view and shove his… shove his hoodie over her head to hide more of her supple flesh from the world… and himself.

He knew from the trip they'd taken to the beach over the past summer that his sweatshirts fell to her knees, covering all the parts he longed to caress and taking away at least some of the temptation. Of course, there was the alternate problem that seeing her in his clothes caused a heated, possessive snake to curl in his gut. And when she returned it to him at the end of the day, it smelled of her sweet perfume. But that snake was much easier to reel in than his hands when she was standing in front of him in nothing but three or four triangles of fabric, secured to her body by lengths of string

"Can you believe this?" Steph said, practically throwing herself onto the patch of grass beside Carlos, revealing a lot more of her panties than Carlos's heart could handle in the process. He handed her his hoodie and she automatically draped it over her lap, obscuring the view. Thank god. "I got a D on my personal reflection! How can he fail me on something that is just my thoughts on how the activity went?"

While Steph continued to rant about her unjust grade, Carlos picked up the papers she'd tossed beside her messenger bag and was about to start perusing the red-pen-riddled pages when she flopped backwards into her thinking position, arms and legs spread eagle as she stared at the foliage above them. His hoodie was, thankfully, still in place hiding everything that shouldn't be on show, so that wasn't what drew his attention back to his friend. No, it was the sigh that spilled from Steph's lips. Wistful, and breathy, and the exact sound he wanted in his ear as he caressed her body.

He really needed a distraction, or he'd be giving a show of his own any minute now.

"What's wrong?" he asked, setting the papers aside.

"I just told you. I failed the assignment."

"Assignment is a strong word for something only worth two percent of your final grade," Carlos pointed out, waving the paper towards her. "There's something else."

"It's nothing," she sighed again, but the way her eyes glazed over let him know that it was more than nothing.

Carlos suppressed a sigh of his own. Since when was it this hard to get information from her? Once upon a time, she would have been spilling the beans on whatever was on her mind before she'd even sat down. The fact that he knew less about what was going on in her head at the moment made him feel… well, he wasn't sure how that made him feel, exactly, couldn't put a label on it, but it certainly wasn't a good feeling.

"Babe."

Rather than give in at the sound of his pet name for her like she usually did, Steph rolled her head to the side, meeting his gaze for the first time as she changed the topic. "Are we going to the Phi Beta Sigma party tonight?"

It took all of Carlos's self-control not to groan out loud. He had been hoping she'd forgotten about the party. As much as Carlos loved spending time with her and seeing her let her hair down (she'd truly come into her own since getting out from under her mother's thumb) he would do anything to not go to that party with her. It was too painful to watch her dancing with other guys. Every time they bumped or ground together, every time another man touched her, he saw red and had to grind his teeth and look away to keep from giving in to the urge to snap their arms (and maybe their dicks) off.

The last thing he wanted to do was go to the party and be miserable all night. But at the same time, he didn't want to disappoint his best friend. So of course he would go. After all, someone had to look out for her, and he definitely couldn't rely on the female friends Steph had made in the year and a half they'd been at college, all of whom seemed intent on sampling every alcohol known to man regardless of personal safety, and their own, or others, wellbeing. He couldn't let anything happen to Steph.

"If you want to go," Carlos hedged, thinking of all the better options, like ironing his hands or sticking needles into his eyes.

Steph rolled her eyes. "You're allowed to say no, Carlos," she admonished. "I'm not going to force you to go if you don't want to. Besides, we're not handcuffed together. I can go with Sarah and Louise if you have other plans."

Shoving the images that assaulted him of Steph in handcuffs (and little else) aside, Carlos let himself fall backwards so he was lying parallel to Steph. "I have that essay due at midnight," he reminded her. "But if I finish early I'll come find you."

He wasn't going to mention the fact that he'd finished that particular assignment ten minutes ago before coming to meet Steph for lunch. There were, after all, a dozen other assignments that he could be working on.

Steph snorted. "Who would have thought that you'd be the one blowing off a party to stay in and study on a Friday night?"

Carlos shrugged. "These are crazy times, Babe. Besides, you always had it in you to be the wild party animal. Escaping Helen has done you a world of-"

"Good?" she finished for him, laughter making the word sparkle above them. "I'm not sure losing my inhibitions at a frat party can be considered good."

"Not lawful good, maybe. But perhaps chaotic good."

"Chaotic good?" Again, her laughter filled the air. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Carlos rolled his head to the side so he could see her properly, their faces only inches apart. The urge to kiss her was strong, but he tamped it down. She didn't like him that way, and even if she did, he wasn't willing to risk their friendship by making advances. Instead, he focused on the conversation at hand.

"I don't know, exactly. My cousin was talking my ear off about this Dungeons and Dragons club he joined at school when I went home last weekend. The term just seems appropriate."

"Dungeons and Dragons, huh?" Steph said, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Which cousin?"

Carlos's left brow ticked up. "Lester."

Steph sent him a look that said she didn't believe him. "You mean wannabe-ladies'-man Lester?" she asked

His lips tipped up and he turned to stare up into the canopy of the trees. "He'll do almost anything for the girl of his dreams," he explained, even as he wished he dared to do the same. It didn't matter that the girl of Lester's dreams changed almost as frequently as Lester's bedsheets. The fact that he wasn't afraid to go after what he wanted, regardless of the astronomical number of rejections he experienced, made him a braver man than Carlos. Even after almost three years of harbouring feelings for Steph, he was unable to confess them.

In a way, he envied the simplicity of his cousin's swinging infatuations because it meant he never really got to know the girls he was pursuing. He didn't have a chance to truly grow attached, so he bounced back easily.

That had been Carlos's fatal error. He knew Stephanie Plum too well to convince himself not to love her. She'd bared her soul to him, all her beauties and insecurities. He needed to protect and support her, and he couldn't do that if he lost her.

Which was why he shouldn't go to the party with her tonight. A part of him screamed for him to go to the party just to protect her, while the more cowardly parts grumbled about having to watch her make out with anyone but him. The more he saw her with other guys, the more he thought that she might be better off without him after all. After all, he was just some delinquent kid, and she had so much potential. Which was more important? His heart, or her future?

Steph shook her head, gazing up at the trees as well, and let out a wistful sigh. "You've gotta hand it to Lester," she murmured, nudging Carlos's foot with her own. "He knows what he wants and isn't afraid to get it."

*o*

Carlos's eyes drifted from his textbook to the alarm clock on the bedside table, to his phone sitting silently beside it and let out a sigh. Try as he might, he couldn't concentrate on studying. Not only was it nine o'clock on a Friday - a time when only nerds had their textbooks out, as evidenced by the music, laughter and yelling filtering in from the window and under the door - but how was he supposed to think about his English paper when Steph was out there, having a great time. Was she drinking? Was she safe? Was she dancing with other guys?

His chest tightened at the thought. No way did he want to think about her with other guys, and thinking about the dress she'd donned before stopping by his dorm earlier in a last-ditch effort to convince him to go with her to the party wasn't helping either. He'd been all but mesmerised by the way the black fabric shimmered when she did a little twirl for him. Her eyes lit up when he proclaimed that she was gorgeous.

He'd almost fucked up and told her he loved her when she grinned and fiddled with her locket - the one he'd given her for her eighteenth birthday. And in the hours since, he'd oscillated between kicking his own ass for being such an idiot that he'd almost let slip the words that would ruin their friendship, and kicking his own ass for being such an idiot that he wasn't even willing to be honest and risk it.

The movement of a new hour ticking over on the digital display of the alarm clock drew his gaze once more and in a split-second decision, he was off the bed and shoving his feet into his sneakers as he snatched up his phone, keys and wallet.

"I'm gonna tell her," he said to himself, stopping by the closet to check that he looked okay. He hadn't changed out of what he wore to class, and if he'd been leaving with Steph he might have changed his shirt or something to make an effort, but this was a last-minute decision, the fact that no stains had appeared on his clothes throughout the day satisfied him enough to continue on his journey. "If Lester can do it three times a month, I can do it once in my lifetime. Maybe it won't be that bad."

The bass was pumping so that loudly Carlos could feel it in the pit of his gut from down the block as he approached the frat house. It did nothing to ease his nerves. The whole walk across campus he'd argued with himself, playing devil's advocate on both sides. What if he told her and she was grossed out by the thought of loving him in that way? Oh, but what if he told her and her face lit up like the time he brought her surprise donuts on the morning of her big final last semester?

He entered the house and waded through the throngs of people milling around inside, through the communal living area, through the kitchen and out onto the deck where the action appeared to be. There was beer pong to his left, keg-stands to his right, and dead ahead-

He stopped in his tracks.

The grassy lawn had been transformed into a makeshift dance floor. Wooden, modular tiles defined the area and provided a consistent surface that the myriad of stiletto heels wouldn't immediately sink into. Coloured lights twinkled in crisscrossing patterns overhead, illuminating the writhing bodies. And there, at the edge of the crowd, was Stephanie Plum in all her glory.

Her hair was loose and natural, curling around her shoulders the way he liked it. The shimmering fabric of her dress once again disconnected his thoughts as he watched the way she swayed and danced, until he noticed the hand obscuring part of his view, snaking under the hem of the skirt. It looked to be grabbing her ass.

Carlos saw red for all of a second until he realised that Steph wasn't trying to push him away. On the contrary, as he stared, her leg came up to wrap around the guy's waist. He dragged his gaze up and had to bite back a noise that was part growl, part sob. It was the guy she'd introduced him to a couple of weeks ago when they ran into him at the movie theatre. What did she say his name was? Dickwad?... Dickie… Dickie Orr. The soon-to-be lawyer. She'd smiled when she introduced him, but Carlos didn't get the sense that there was anything between them.

Now, though? A different story completely. They were making out. And she was enjoying it, if the way she continued to press closer to him, angling her hips and raking her hands through his hair, was anything to go by.

He couldn't do this again, he realised. He couldn't sit back and watch her fall for another guy just to have him break her heart in a few weeks or months. Steph's six-month relationship dry spell had lulled him into a false sense of security. It had allowed him to forget just how badly he handled seeing her with her lips on another guy, her arms wrapped around another when he knew just how well she fit against Carlos's side.

As he continued to watch, frozen in place, Steph and the guy slowly parted and shared a smile, resuming their dance in increments, oblivious to the way something shrivelled in Carlos's chest. He felt like the Grinch, all of a sudden his heart was two sizes too small. He couldn't continue to love Steph from the sidelines. He had to distance himself. He had to…

Tears burned behind his eyes as his lungs continued to constrict. He had to get out of there before she noticed him.

Turning on his heels, he sprinted for the bathroom he'd passed in the hall a few minutes ago, slamming the door in the face of a girl who looked like she was about to wet herself if she didn't get to a toilet right that second, and flicked the lock into place. He braced himself on the vanity, fists clenching on either side of the porcelain sink. His breaths were ragged as the music thrashed his body.

He was certain Lester had never had to deal with this. Rejection was one thing, but Carlos was certain Lester wouldn't continue pursuing every girl he was even mildly attracted to if he felt this kind of pain, like his chest was caving in and his guts were being ripped out all at once.

His best friend. The woman he loved more than anything. She filled his dreams and his waking thoughts. She was the air he breathed. And yet he never had a chance with her.

A fist pounded on the bathroom door and he sucked in just enough oxygen from the vortex swirling around him, crowding into him, suffocating, to yell that he'd be out in a minute.

A minute. A year. A decade. It didn't matter. Nothing would change the fact that he was in love with a woman who would never love him back. Not in the way he wanted. She loved him as a friend, the same way she loved Mary-Lou, but she wasn't in love with him. That much was clear.

Carlos had tried to date a few times over the last year, to get his mind off of Steph, to stop obsessing, but nothing felt right. Their lips on his were too firm. Their bodies were too thin, or too full where they pressed against him. On the rare occasions, he was able to shut off his thoughts and just be in the moment, something would happen - his hand gliding unhindered through silky, straight strands of hair, a moan that was pitched too high - and he would snap back to reality. The reality where Steph wasn't his now, nor would she ever be.

Steph had never shown signs of having the same problems. She'd dated liberally their first year of college, basking in the freedom of not having to answer to Helen for her whereabouts. And not once did she show even a hint that she would have preferred him over the guys she was making out with. She always returned to him, sure, but it was platonic. She treated him more like a brother than anything else.

But Carlos's thoughts weren't the kind a guy should be having about his sister.

"I WANNA DANCE WITH SOMEBODY!"

The drunken warble, singing along with the Whitney Houston song from right outside the door, jolted Carlos from his thoughts and he snapped his head up to meet his gaze in the mirror. How many nights had he and Steph sat on the picnic table near her dorm and made fun of the drunk girls staggering home after a party? And now here he was, alone. No one to share those joys with, because he wasn't worthy of her love.

A sob crept up his throat and he slammed his fist against the counter.

Another knock sounded, louder this time. And then again. The pounding of flesh against wood, and the rattling of the door's hardware only added to the clanging building inside him as he attempted to draw in a full breath. The pressure kept rising, threatening to blow him up.

Coming to the party was a mistake. He could almost believe he could have continued as normal if he hadn't seen the smile she sent Dickwad on the dancefloor. She deserved to be happy. That was something he'd always known. And if he stuck around, feeling the way he was feeling, he would only drag her mood down.

The banging on the door continued like a war drum, his heart syncing up with the beat until the decision was clear.

He'd taken the college route to make her happy, to extend their time together, but with every passing second, every note that blasted through the door from the pointless party beyond, his body thrummed with a yearning for something more.

He had to leave.

Suddenly, his lungs expanded with their first full breath in what felt like a century. It felt right. When he turned his gaze back to his face in the mirror he saw the determination in his own red-rimmed eyes. His movements were sure as he flicked on the faucet, splashed some water on his face and strode out of the bathroom. Out of the frat house. And out of Stephanie Plum's life forever.